Let's not mourn its passing.

It is with great regret that I have to announce the closure of the Nick Abbot on Sunday. For the last hundred years, this venerable show has looked up the skirt of the nation to spread rumours and lies and stories I made up, but there comes a time when an organisation must read the runes, feel the bumps, smell the wind and do the right thing, by which I mean, take the appropriate action to continue to maximise profitability for myself. Damaging and hurtful allegations have been levelled at my show and I have worked closely with the police to make them go away as quickly as possible, but in the end, the wave of stories unbefitting a major radio show have determined that even those ordinarily too petrified to speak out against me have decided that there is a brief window of opportunity to take a stand against an organisation as powerful as my own. Like many of the people who I feature in my programmes, I have been caught with my pants down and I am deeply sorry. I am sorry that this has been uncovered and that you, the public, have discovered the lengths to which I will go in order to make more money. It has been said that I am lower than a slug’s belly in a pot hole, but that is an unfair comment that will not go unpunished when I am back on my feet again, which will be next Sunday, as I have decided that the Nick Abbot on Sunday will be replaced with a Sunday edition of the Nick Abbot on Saturday. Knowing the good people of Britain, I am confident that all this will be forgotten if I ply you with free crap, bigger boobs and more on that whole Cheryl Cole hairstyle saga. Sadly, this means that I will be able to save a lot of money by releasing all the innocent assistants who have tirelessly worked on the Sunday show, but the good news is that they will not be replaced. The new show will be staffed by the regular Saturday people who will be given the chance to work an extra day for free. This opportunity is called maximising their efficiency, or “not getting fired”.

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Some people have queried whether I paid the police for information and I can only say - how can you ask that? I know I said I paid the police some time ago, but what I meant when I said that I paid the police for stories was that other people, completely unconnected with me have done it on shows I haven’t heard of. If that was not made clear, then I apologise. I expect it was your fault for listening to what I said too closely. When I ran a story in the past that could only have come from a police source, it was not because I bunged them a fiver, it is because I am psychic. It is this gift that leads me to believe that some of you think the Nick Abbot on Sunday has been infected by a bad apple (me) and that it hardly seems possible that I have not been indulging in the exact same underhand, nefarious activities on my other show. I can assure you that the two programmes are entirely separate, and if you believe that, I have some time share holiday flats in Libya I would like to interest you in.

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There has been the further suggestion that the closure of the Nick Abbot on Sunday is in order to protect my chief glamorous assistant, the Wicked Witch of the West and that I am firing all the assistants on the Sunday show to protect one favoured overseer, and to you I say that the idea is as laughable as it is true. I do not fire people lightly. It is with a heavy heart that I have to let go a lot of hard working, blameless individuals, who depend on their livelihood from the Sunday show but after much soul searching, I have come to the conclusion that they are, in a very real sense, completely expendable. I hope that puts your minds at rest.

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To the other shows, on other stations that may be feeling a sense of joy at the passing of a competitor, let me warn you that our common enemy is not each other, but the public themselves. They have it in mind to demand the changing of the Radio Complaints Committee, from an organisation run by and for the benefit of radio shows into something much more sinister that might actually go as far as stopping us from doing whatever we want to whomever we choose. Now is not the time for petty point scoring, our whole way of making ourselves richer is at stake. We must let the public know that if they speak out against us, we have their number. Literally.

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And to those of you who feel the need to contact my show to voice your disapproval, please don’t bother. I know what you think - I have detailed files and you will be getting yours in due course, when all this blows over, which should be right after the enquiry, set up by my close personal friend, the Drear Leader. It will be run by a man with impeccable credentials, who will, I am assured, collect the facts, weigh the evidence and retire to consider his verdict of not guilty.

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You thought Big Brother would be an all seeing eye, or the middle aged, moustachioed man of the book, but it turns out that Big Brother is a short haired, soft faced man with rimless spectacles, dead eyes and a press card. There’s another thing that George Orwell got wrong, the Hampstead living, intellectual, motor cycle riding PERVERT.

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In closing, I would like to thank everyone whoever listened to the Nick Abbot on Sunday, if only for the pictures, and I can assure you it will be business as usual shortly. The Nick Abbot on Sunday is dead. Long live the Nick Abbot on Saturday on Sunday.